


Next Time

by Anjelle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:30:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zo wakes on a particularly ordinary morning that soon fades into a memorable evening as he recalls his time with a certain redheaded cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

Sometimes Thatch would wake up first. His eyes would stare blankly out into the room as his muddled mind began to work, the haze of sleep slowly freeing his thoughts, and he would turn over. Every time, every single time he would be met with pale ivory skin and gentle waves of black, his bedmate still sleeping soundly amidst a mess of pillows and covers. Those were his favourite mornings, simply lying beside the other man, listening to the contented breaths that passed his lips, feeling the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together. He loved waking to that.

Morning started in that nice, rare routine he'd developed—normally Izo rose before he did, which was a little disappointing—and eventually he found himself leaning in, pressing his lips gently to his lover's forehead before hopping out of bed. The redhead stretched, reaching stiff limbs into the air with a noise of satisfaction before leaving the room and making his way down the hall to the kitchen. Ah, he loved that kitchen; it was always kept sterile, always neat, always just the way he liked it. That fact just made him grin, knowing that it wasn't even his house.

He knew how much Izo liked his cooking, but resigned himself to keeping breakfast simple. After all, things weren't supposed to get started until dinner. When the last meal of the day arrived he could impress his lover, but until then… pancakes sounded good. Actually, they sounded great—simple yet effective and he could hopefully have them done before the crossdresser even opened his eyes.

Gathering the ingredients and starting on the batter, Thatch grinned to himself, his mind a clutter of what the night would bring forth. But he couldn't rush, couldn't let it slip. So he took a deep breath, held it, and then released with it as much of his pent-up energy as he could manage.

Just eight more hours.

* * *

Izo was displeased to awaken to a cold, empty bed. More times than not he found a redhead snoring the day away beside him, even going so far as to sleep in past the alarm. Actually, said snoring was normally what woke him up.

Flopping onto his back with a huff, he stared at the ceiling. The tans of the room reminded him that he was home, and that the idiot who  _should_  have been asleep beside him was likely raiding his kitchen. It was a pity; last night he went to bed with the intention of waking early to make breakfast himself for once. He figured Thatch could use a break, seeing as he never went a day without cooking. But it appeared his small act of kindness was never to be, leading him to purse his lips in displeasure.

Finally he sat up, allowing the covers to bunch around his waist. He blinked away residual sleep and looked down at himself, at his uncovered torso that disappeared beneath layers of blankets. He was naked. He rarely slept naked. That realisation had his mouth curving slightly, recalling the night he had with fondness, closing his eyes to picture Thatch's face as he ran a calloused hand through his dark strands. It had been a while since the last time they'd messed around, life keeping them apart more often than not.

Well, enough of that. He turned to the side of the bed and stood, the blankets falling away from his nude form as he walked over to the closet. Ah, decisions. He was never sure what to pick. If he had work then he'd go with a nice pantsuit or something of the like but it was the weekend and he had the day off…

Come to think of it, there was something about that day, wasn't there? What was it?

Shrugging it off, Izo sifted through the items in his closet, none quite fitting his mood for the day until his eyes caught on a flash of pink. Slowly he lowered the items in his hands, allowing the hangers to hook around the knob of the closet door. He reached out, taking the soft fabric between his fingers, allowing himself to smile.

* * *

_Izo was nervous. His small hands bunched around the fabric of his pink kimono, eyes to the floor as he dared not to look up. He'd never admitted it to anyone, never told them of his interests, and now the first one to find out was one of his brothers. Thatch always liked to tease him even without knowing his secret. He was always there with a sarcastic remark, a few jibing words, poking fun at his siblings whenever he could. It was in his nature—just a part of how he was. Izo was never bothered by it before but now he dreaded it, dreaded the teasing and jokes that were bound to follow. He should have locked the door. If he had, his brother wouldn't have come in. If he had, Thatch wouldn't have seen._

_With closed eyes he awaited the scorching comments he was sure would follow._

_"Woah…" Thatch exclaimed, causing the younger to tighten his grip on his kimono. "Izo, you… you look really pretty!"_

_His eyes shot open and he stared disbelievingly as his sibling approached, stopping in front of him with that huge grin of his. He blinked. "…What?"_

_"Mmm… but the hair…" Before he knew what was going on he was pulled into a chair while his brother scurried in and out of the room, returning with a brush and a few hair supplies. Quickly Thatch took his place behind Izo, still not explaining himself. "Just stay still and leave it to me!"_

_Leave what to him? He fidgeted in place even as the bristles of the brush ran along his scalp. Thatch had never done something like that. It felt nice, but it did nothing to ease his anxiety. And as silence overtook them he just had to ask, "Aren't you going to laugh?"_

_The hand brushing through his hair stopped, hovering over his head for a brief moment before continuing its task of freeing Izo's hair of knots and tangles. "Why?"_

_He pulled his mouth taut. "I like girls' clothes."_

_"So?"_

_"I'm a boy."_

_"You look good in 'em."_

_"It's weird!"_

_"No it's not." His eyes widened and he turned around to look at his brother, met with furrowed brows and a firm scowl. That expression was foreign on Thatch's face. It looked wrong; he was normally such a carefree idiot. Fingers ran through his hair a few times, gliding with ease, before he started parting it into five sections. "You like what you like. And you look cute."_

_Izo's face flushed at that. He never thought he'd hear words like those. All his life, all that time he spent worrying he never once thought he'd be accepted. Words like 'abnormal' and 'disgusting' were always there to fill his thoughts with dread, his mind with terror. And there was his big brother, telling him it was alright, that he looked good._

_That he should be happy._

_He punched him lightly in the arm when he came around to his front. "Shut up, Elvis. You're not going to make me look like you, are you?"_

_Thatch's bottom lip stuck out in a pout as he took one section and made it into a ponytail, taking the part beneath it and once more brushing it to a straight shine. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_Izo rolled his eyes to mask his happiness, folding his arms over his chest. "You always wear your hair up in that stupid… whatever it is."_

_"Pompadour," Thatch provided, "and my hair's down now!"_

_"Which is a rare occasion."_

_"It looks good!"_

_"You_ think _it looks good," Izo countered. When they both went quiet and his brother's face sagged, looking much like a kicked puppy, it led him to sigh and avert his eyes. "But I guess it… kind of suits you."_

_The redhead smiled but didn't say anything as he bumped up the second ponytail and attached them together._

_"…Where did you get all of this?"_

_He simply shrugged. "I wanted to be a hairdresser before."_

_Izo blinked. "You did?" That was the first he'd heard of it._

_"Stay still," he commanded, reaching out to adjust his younger brother's chin. "I wanted to be one when I was fifteen but things changed." So last year, then._

_"What about now?"_

_His mouth stretched into a grin. "A cook."_

_Izo remained quiet, still, as his brother carded through his hair—now with a comb instead of a brush—and folded one section over. It was hard to tell what he was doing at some points, and he wished he had a mirror so that he could watch. He worried his brother might make him look ridiculous, but… he took the whole thing really well, and Izo didn't think he could be mad at him even if he wanted to be. So instead he allowed him the enjoyment of messing with his long strands of hair. That section was added to the ponytail as well and he went on to repeat the process with the other, then with the part at the top of his head. He added one of those bump-type things to the tail hanging in the back, making it also fold up and rise above his head before taking his place in front of the other, nodding in approval._

_Taking his brother's hand, Izo was led to the mirror he had on his wall, his jaw going slack when he saw the neat, carefully done traditional hairstyle Thatch had given him—one that matched well with the women's kimono adorning his figure. Seeing the redhead standing behind him with a confident grin made him blush._

_"It looks alright, I guess."_

_"Alright? I did a damn good job and you know it."_

_He couldn't disagree without lying, so instead he scowled and looked away proudly._

_"Ah, almost time for dinner," Thatch noted, once more grabbing the younger's hand. "C'mon."_

_But the crossdresser remained firmly in place, unmovable no matter the strength his sibling had. "They'll see."_

_Thatch raised a confused eyebrow. "So? I'll get to show off my skills!"_

_He bit his lip, unable to meet the elder's deep brown eyes. "…What if it bothers them?"_

_"They're not gonna care. You think Marco 'n them will even notice?" he asked, making a valid point. Their brothers tended to just go with whatever came their way, usually not batting an eye at it. Marco, especially, was known for his easygoing nature. But that did nothing for Izo's nerves, the fear that accumulated over the years still running strong. "And before you say anything: the only reason he objects to me cooking is because my hair gel's flammable, alright? Otherwise he wouldn't care. So I doubt he'll be too concerned with what you wear."_

_"But…"_

_"And if anyone doesn't like it then you'll still have me."_

_Those words made him clutch tighter to that hand, nodding before his mind could catch up to him._

_Thatch smiled. "Good! Let's go!"_

_But still he didn't move, a slight blush rising to his face. He felt his brother's eyes on him, questioning, waiting. "…Can you teach me?" he asked. "The hair, I mean."_

_The redhead laughed. "Sure!"_

_As they stepped through the doorframe, he never felt so at peace._

* * *

After a shower Izo found himself turning once while watching himself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, nodding in approval at the robes of pink and purple so like yet unlike the robes he wore that day. He always loved traditional wear and that was his favourite outfit as an eleven-year-old. He remembered crying when he realised he'd grown out of it. Thatch laughed at him, the jerk, but last year he showed up on Christmas with that little gem, over ten years later. He was an idiot with horrible taste, but… he could be sweet, when he wanted to be.

As he looked himself over he frowned, eyes catching on discoloured skin on his neck, peeking out from under the kimono. He  _told_  that moron not to leave any visible marks. But, with a resigned sigh he shrugged it off. Since when did Thatch listen to him? Unless it was important he just did what he pleased. And as much as Izo liked to feel in control, there was something about his lover's inability to listen that just… made him smile. He thought himself stupid for feeling that way, but he couldn't help it.

* * *

_His skin was on fire, blood burning beneath in the afterglow of their first time. With closed eyes he rested his head on a broad chest, body enveloped by strong arms, overpowered by warmth in the dim candlelight of the room. He looked out, watching the flames flicker gently in the air of the room. He told Thatch he wanted it to be romantic, and the fool had listened. The thought made him smile. No matter how much they bickered, how often they teased one another day to day, year to year, he never felt so content in another's embrace, never so calm pressed flush with something else._

_A hand lifted from his shoulders to card through his hair, bringing long strands of black along as it went. He wondered how Thatch could stand doing that; he must have been covered in sweat. But all of that was forgotten when he felt lips against his forehead, gentle and soft to the touch. Izo lifted himself to rest on his elbows on the other's chest, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes._

_"Tired?" the redhead asked._

_"Yeah," he replied shortly, pressing their lips together in a simple kiss, no lust behind it, tender and loving even as he pulled away. "What about you?"_

_"Maybe," he whispered back, chuckling low in his throat, "but we should probably put the candles out before we burn the place down."_

_His mouth curved into a delicate smile. "It would be a memorable end to a memorable night," Izo pointed._

_"True," he agreed with a laugh, "but I don't think Marco would appreciate me crashing at his place during repairs."_

_Izo hummed in thought, nodding in acknowledgement. "Fair point. We'll wait until I move out, then you can stay with me."_

_Again he laughed, quiet and tired, once more wrapping his arms around the body above him. "Sharing a bed with you every night? Doesn't sound too bad."_

_"No," he corrected, "you snore. You get the couch."_

_"That's cold."_

_Lifting himself off the other, he left the bed to blow out the candles, leaving them in almost perfect darkness, the moonlight shining in through the window and illuminating the headboard. He might have tripped on his way back to the bed if it hadn't been for that. As he returned to his spot he stilled when Thatch's hand reached for him, fingers pressed against his collarbone._

_"Oops."_

_"What 'oops'?"_

_The redhead offered a sheepish smile. "Might've left a mark. They still don't know, right?"_

_He rolled his eyes, dropping his head onto his pillow. "I haven't told them. And now I'll have to wear something high-cut until it goes away. I hope you're happy."_

_"Or," he offered, "we could use it as an excuse to tell them."_

_Narrowing his eyes on the elder, he huffed and turned to face away, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. "Go to bed, Elvis. You've soiled my evening."_

_Despite his words, he said nothing when an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer._

* * *

Opting to leave his hair down, Izo stepped out of the bathroom and started down the hall. His eyes lingered on the family photographs that decorated the walls, pictures of his brothers and father causing a faint smile to cross his lips. Eventually he passed them, stepping into the living room and then joining kitchen, spotting a familiar head of red hair at the stove. Wordlessly he took a seat at the island, watching as Thatch piled pancakes onto a plate. Satisfied, he turned off the stove and spun around, not at all surprised to see his lover sitting there.

"Morning," he greeted, placing an empty plate and utensils in front of the crossdresser, leaning in for a kiss. His advancement was stopped by a hand, leaving him to blink.

"Brushed your teeth yet?"

"I haven't even had breakfast!" the cook countered.

"No hygiene, no sugar. Now pass the syrup."

Thatch rolled his eyes but complied, passing everything he made over to the island along with syrup and butter, taking a seat beside his host. It felt odd referring to himself as that, not only because Thatch was the one serving the meal at  _his_  house but because they'd been so intimate for so long that it almost felt like they lived together.

As he took his first bite Izo's brow furrowed. He chewed slowly, deep in thought. There was something about that day he was forgetting, but what was it? His eyes glanced to the calendar on the far wall, a bright red circle surrounding a specific date. It was Saturday… March 24th…

Thatch's birthday.

He chanced at glimpse at the cook, watching him eat and listening as he rambled on about something-or-other he didn't care to pay attention to, thoughts falling on the date. About a month ago he tried reserving dinner at a place called Baratie to celebrate the occasion. Being the nicest place in the city, he thought it'd be a nice treat for Thatch's thirtieth, especially since he'd never been there. Unfortunately calling a month in advance wasn't soon enough; he managed to reserve a table for the twenty-ninth, but that left him with nothing for his lover today. Of course, spending the day together could prove to be just as nice, and lately Thatch's erratic shifts at the restaurant kept them from having much quality time to share…

"It looks good on you."

Izo blinked, refocusing on his guest before looking down at his kimono. He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost forgot the other was talking. Come to think of it, Thatch hadn't seen him wear that before, had he? "Everything looks good on me, darling."

He laughed. "Just accept the compliment." With that, his plate empty, Thatch stepped over to the sink. He washed his dishes promptly before placing them in their respective drawers and cupboards. "I'll be going now, so make sure you finish your breakfast."

Wait, wait, wait, what did he say? "You're leaving?"

The redhead rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "You weren't listening again, were you?" Damn, he was onto him. "I have to head out early today; I promised I'd help out Marco 'n the kid with some stuff."

The kid? He meant Ace, right—that boy Marco seemed so fond of? But why would he be going out to help them on his birthday? Actually, he hadn't even mentioned what day it was. Last year all week he'd been mentioning it, not-so-subtly hinting to Izo that he wanted to spend the day together. This year, though… What, was he brooding because he was getting up in years? That hardly seemed like him.

Ignoring his internal debate, the crossdresser smiled. "Enjoy yourself." After kissing the redhead's cheek—because he still refused to meet his lips if he hadn't brushed his teeth—he watched him go, his chest clenched and heart heavy. With the close of the door his thoughts of a day with his lover faded and he sighed, continuing his meal in silence. Well, that was a disappointment.

As Izo ate he wondered what to do with his day off. Haruta worked until the evening on Saturdays, so he couldn't bother her. He had friends he could get into contact with but he didn't really feel like bothering with it. Maybe a day alone would be nice.

Two hours later he found himself revoking that statement, having exhausted his list of things that needed to be done. He'd washed the dishes, cleaned the house and found himself on the couch with a photo album, feeling older than he was. Flipping through the pages had him smiling, but he was certain it would only stave off boredom for so long. Still, he was content.

The first photos were of his ninth Christmas. The old man had dressed up as Santa; thinking back to it had him laughing. Their father certainly did his best to keep them happy. Ah, that was the year he beat up Thatch, wasn't it? Turning the page showed that he was right, an image of Marco disinfecting the redhead's wounds catching his eye. He'd really done a number on him, huh? And he couldn't even remember what he was so upset about… Oh, right! Thatch laughed at the gift he made him! It was poorly put together but at nine years old it was the best he could do, given he had no money. The teasing was intended good-naturedly but Izo was upset, one thing led to another and… Well, it couldn't have hurt that much; he did the same thing a year later.

Then again, Thatch had trouble learning from his mistakes.

Pictures of Vista's wedding followed, taking up a good five pages before Izo found himself staring at a picture of his twelve-year-old self brushing Thatch's hair. Looking back he realised that the poor guy let him get away with a lot; even if he complained about it, he never told his little brother 'no'.

The phone ringing pulled him from his thoughts and he leaned forward to answer it, "Yes?"

_"Izo? Sorry for bothering you on your day off. One of the girls called in… Do you think you could fill in for her?"_

Looking around at the empty room, he almost jumped at the chance. He didn't let that enthusiasm show through his voice, of course. "I had things to do today, but I suppose I could."

_"Really? Thanks so much! I couldn't get a hold of anyone else!"_

"You owe me."

_"I know. Thanks again!"_

Heaving a sigh, he hung up and looked down at his kimono. It looked like he was going to have to change; he couldn't work with such long layers on. It was a pity, since he really didn't get to wear traditional clothing often. Well, at least he had something to do.

* * *

_Thatch grumbled as his younger brother worked through the knots in his hair. "Ow! Be careful, would ya?"_

_Izo simply huffed, ignoring his pleas as he tore through the tangled mess atop the other's head. Maybe he shouldn't have asked him right after he woke up. Oh well, too late now. "Stop whining; it's not that bad."_

_"You're not the one having your hair torn out," the teen grumbled. "You better not make me look ridiculous."_

_"I can't do any worse than you usually do."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Pompadour," was the simple reply._

_"It looks cool!"_

_"It doesn't."_

_"It at least looks better than what you did to Marco's hair."_

_At that Izo stopped, narrowing his eyes on his sibling. "He looks good."_

_"He looks like a pineapple."_

_"It suits him."_

_"It turned him into a tropical frui—OUCH! Stop that!"_

_He decidedly let go of the man's hair, searching through his supplies for a proper comb. Alright, so_ maybe  _he should have asked Marco before shaving the sides of his head. And maybe he should have put more thought into it rather than just winging it when he styled the remaining blond strands, but it didn't turn out bad. And while Marco didn't seem to like it, he didn't hate it either. So wasn't that a win-win situation? It turned out alright in the end._

_"You'll let me do your makeup after this, right?"_

_"What? No!"_

_His face sagged, eyes locking with the redhead's in a pleading look. "Please? Haruta won't let me."_

_Thatch turned away, trying to avoid eye contact. "What about Marco?"_

_"Marco in makeup?"_

_"Good point." Heaving a sigh, he nodded. "Fine. Just don't turn me into a clown or something."_

_"You already are one." He accepted the eye-roll he received with pleasure. "Don't worry, I'll make you beautiful."_

_"…I'm already regretting this."_

* * *

Izo's hands ran through the powder-blue waves of the woman seated before him, her hair smooth to the touch as he caught the ends between his fingers, being careful as he cut. A mess of hair fell to the floor and he felt himself sigh with pity. She had such beautiful tresses yet was shortening them to just below her shoulders, losing most of their length. Still, it wasn't his job to tell her to keep her head of curls.

He caught her eyes on him, a smile adorning her lips, that thoughtful look she often wore entering her eyes. Naturally he returned the sentiment, adjusting her head as he went around to her side and took more hair into his hand, being sure to cut it exactly how she'd asked.

"Is something bothering you, Izo?"

"Hm?" He barely heard her words, focused on the task at hand.

"You look distracted," she continued.

"You're distracting me," the stylist replied without skipping a beat, prompting a laugh from his customer. He cut the ends, watching yet more light strands drop to the floor.

"You know what I mean."

Well, he did. That wasn't incorrect. "Today  _was_  my day off, you know. I took it off for the idiot's birthday."

"Thatch's?" A nod. "He left?"

"He left."

"The louse."

_Ah, Whitey—a woman after my own heart._ Izo didn't bring the subject any more attention, allowing it to drop off as he finished cutting his customer's hair to its desired length, starting to add layers. But the chime of the door being opened at the front of the store momentarily stole his attention, leading his eyes to narrow as he watched one of his co-workers enter—the co-worker who he was  _supposed_  to be filling in for. The girl looked at him dumbly as she talked to one of the stylists, her eyes widening as she realised. He caught the other girl glancing his way as well and pursed his lips in displeasure as they exchanged murmured words.

Something was off. Now what were they hiding?

* * *

Izo sighed as he got out of his car. Oh, Thatch. Stupid, stupid Thatch. After a thorough interrogation, leaving no room for his co-workers to miss anything, he'd learned that his lover had called in only hours before, asking for them to get Izo out of the house for a little while. Why? They hadn't asked. Of course, the crossdresser was used to that redheaded man-child's 'clever' ideas, so he could guess. He only wished he found all of that out at the beginning of his shift, not close to the end.

So because he was expecting it, he wasn't surprised when he unlocked and opened his front door to find a redhead sheepishly standing there, not unlike a child caught doing something they shouldn't. He huffed, folding his arms over his chest like a scolding parent as Thatch let out an awkward laugh.

"You're home early," he declared after a stretch.

"What are you doing?"

"…I forgot something?"

"You didn't."

"You're right, I didn't."

_Silence._

Seeing as he wasn't getting an answer, Izo pushed passed his lover, ignoring his protests as he trailed behind him into the living room. He blinked when several heads turned his way, just as surprised as he was. His brothers were there, lounging on the couch and in the chairs with drinks in their hands, some in standing at the island in the open-concept kitchen where he suspected he'd find the rest. Some still hadn't noticed, continuing whatever ongoing conversations were going on, drinking and laughing, and Izo was left confused. Looking back at Thatch he saw that the man's head was dropped into his palm as he heaved a sigh.

"Thatch," he called shortly as he looked into the room, his brothers greeting him openly, none bothering to enlighten him on just what was going on.

"Yes?"

"Explain. Now."

"W-well, you see…"

A head poked out from around the wall, freckled cheeks stretching into a grin as grey eyes locked onto him. "Oh, Izo! Didn't expect you so soon." He blinked as the boy he remembered as Ace—they'd only met on occasion—waltzed over to him nonchalantly. Izo took the time to look him over, noticing the messy apron worn over his shorts and topless chest—why did the boy never wear a shirt, again? "'M afraid it's not done yet. Just wait a little longer, okay? Marco 'n I are working on it."

He tilted his head. The boy completely lost him right as he started talking. "What are you—"

"Oh!" Ace stopped himself from turning around, straightening his back before entering into a low bow. "Congratulations!"

With that, the boy retreated back into the kitchen, leaving Izo blank-faced and more confused than he started out. It was only once he was gone that the owner of the house really looked around. The tables were covered in untouched food, most he recognised as Thatch's recipes—Thatch, who was still childishly refusing to meet his eyes with a face heated in embarrassment.

As he stepped further in his brothers greeted him with that same word, "Congratulations." It stuck in his head long after he entered the kitchen, met with a full spread laid out on the table and a tropical fruit manning the stove. He watched Ace shove Thatch's chef hat on the blond's head, taking him by surprise. Haruta was busy bringing a tray of tarts from the counter to the table, stopping only briefly enough to smile at her brother before continuing what she was doing.

It wasn't long before Thatch arrived beside him, scratching his head.

"…What is this?"

"Well it was  _supposed_  to be a surprise…" His voice faded, dropping into a pouty tone.

He still kept his eyes on the busy bodies scurrying about to prepare the food. "Oh, I'm surprised alright…"

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him towards his lover. His back pressed against the redhead's chest and a chin came to rest on his shoulder, the heat from the larger man's body warming his own. Lips brushed his ear, the hair along his chin rubbing against his neck. "Good," he murmured simply, the smile clear in his tone. "Impressed?"

_A little._ But Thatch didn't need to know that. So he turned up his nose, huffing indignantly. "Not at all." Somehow he knew the cook saw through his rouse, even if he didn't call him on it. "Well? Explain. It's your birthday, Elvis, not mine."

The man chuckled low, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through Izo's skin as he squeezed tighter. "Say 'yes'."

He froze, eyes slightly wide as he interpreted those words. "…To what?"

"Just say it."

Pulling his mouth taut his heart raced. He noticed Ace glancing over at them with a grin before turning them away, as if to give some semblance of privacy. "Yes."

Soft lips pressed lightly against his temple as Thatch laughed again, hugging him tightly before granting him release. He spun around, looking up at his lover with quizzical eyes when he didn't receive some sort of explanation.

"What did I agree to?"

Every time Thatch shared a mischievous smirk he wanted to punch him in the face. That time was no exception. "Moving in with me."

Hearing that, his body sagged, no longer in a state of nervous excitement. "That's all?"

The redhead raised an eyebrow as he frowned. "You don't want to?" Izo averted his eyes, cue enough for his lover to interpret. "I suppose I could propose, too."

"How nonchalant of you."

He grinned. "I figured I'd save that for  _your_  birthday."

"Of course you did."

"So, yes?"

The pair went quiet, eyes locked in a wordless battle. Izo's lips parted soundlessly to formulate a reply, interrupted by a surprised yelp from behind. Both heads turned to see black smoke rising from the oven, spreading over the ceiling.

"Marco," Ace called in a panic as the blond headed over, "Marco I think it's burning!"

"I can see that, yoi!"

Thatch groaned, calling back the younger's attention. He allowed himself to be pulled in once more by strong arm, to be tightly held for a brief few seconds. "I better take care of that." He leaned in, stopped by a pale hand.

"Did you br—"

"Yes, yes I did," he replied, capturing the other's lips, seconds stretching on before they parted and the redhead hurried over to the two idiots who'd ruined whatever was in the stove. "Hey, hey, that turkey was expensive!"

"Marco did it!"

"What? Oi!"

"He was trying to liberate it."

"I told you to watch it, yoi!"

"Nu-uh, I'm innocent!"

"Shit, where's the fire extinguisher?"

Izo watched the three run around like chickens with missing heads, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest as they made a mess of his nice, pristine kitchen. Lips quirking into a smile, he resolved not to hesitate next time.

_Next time I'll say 'yes'._

* * *

_"Izo, will you marry me?"_

_The teen blinked, looking up to the elder with blinking eyes. "This is sudden."_

_Thatch grinned. "Not now. One day."_

_"Mmm…" His index finger pressed against his chin as he thought. "I think I'd want to live with you first, moron."_

_"We lived together before," he pointed._

_"It's different. We'd share a room and…"_

_"And?"_

_Izo blushed, looking away. "A-and I don't know if I can handle your snoring night after night."_

_Rolling his eyes, the redhead hooked an arm around the younger's shoulders and pulled him in. "Then will you say 'yes'?"_

_"Mmm…"_

_"Now what?!"_

_"Ask me again—_ after _we live together."_

_He huffed. "And next time I'll get an answer?"_

_A smile crossed his face as he looked up, placing a chaste kiss on his lover's cheek. "Next time I'll say 'yes'."_

 


End file.
